"But, I only had one strike!" Tiffany pleaded.

"And you’re out. Leave." His authoritative tone left no further room for argument.

As Tiffany and Amanda left the green room and turned the corner, I could hear Amanda yelling at her twin for ruining their chances at getting laid by the hottest man in the history of rock 'n' roll. The door closed.

With their departure, that just left me. And him. Alone.

Chapter Three

HOT-HEADED

We stared at each other for a moment.

"You’re an ass and your music sucks," I shot at him before turning to leave.

"Wait a second." He caught me by the arm, his hold gentle but firm. "I know you’re upset. But listen, I was just messing with you," he said with a smile.

The skin to skin contact sent electricity up my arm and scorched a few of my brain cells. Shaking my head, I pulled away from his grip. "Messing with me?" I asked. I folded my arms across my chest and stepped back to put some distance between us. "So, do you do this after every show? Ask multiple girls to come backstage, line them up, and check out their tits and asses to see which one you’d want to take into the green room and bang? I guess you either f**k them or you just f**k with them instead."

He smiled nonchalantly. "I only asked you to come backstage. I didn’t ask those other girls. They showed up on their own." Turning to pick up a towel hanging over a nearby chair, he began drying his hair with it. "But yes, I was f**king with you. I thought it’d be fun to see your reaction. And it was."

Ugh, the nerve of this guy. Even though I was pissed off, I didn’t really suspect he was lying; in fact, it made a lot of sense. The tightness in my forehead relaxed slightly. I wasn’t as angry as I was before, but still, it was a pretty dick thing to do for a joke. "Are you serious? Why would you do that?"

He finished drying his hair and gracefully draped the towel across the back of his neck. He looked irritatingly self-assured and lethally sexy. "You caught my attention when I saw you fighting your way to the front during the show. You’re bold," he said, grinning, "and I like that. I wanted to push your buttons."

It was a compliment and an admission of ass**lery all rolled into one.

I smiled wryly, secretly pleased by the compliment. "Well, congrats, you succeeded. You do know that still makes you a jerk, right? Doesn’t matter how hot you are."

His mouth twitched, and his eyes strayed briefly toward the ceiling in thought. "If that’s how you feel about it, how about I make us even."

I was still mildly pissed. Even though I now knew he’d been playing a joke on me, I hadn’t changed my mind about leaving and calling it a night—the damage had been done. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He took a step forward, entering my personal space. I touched my pendant instinctively. "Just so you know, this necklace is full of pepper spray. So don’t try anything funny." I intended it to be less of a threat and more of a warning against doing something else douchey.

He raised a brow. "Oh?" He reached for my star-shaped pendant and fingered it curiously, touching my fingers gently as he did so.

His hands were soft, but the pads of his fingers were rough with calluses, probably from playing guitar. Embarrassed by the thrill of pleasure I felt from his touch, I let go of the pendant. "Yeah."

Smiling, he moved his attention from my necklace to my face. He gently brushed a strand of my strawberry-blonde hair away from my cheek with his finger. I shifted on my feet but didn’t pull away; I didn’t want him to see his effect on me. "You know," he said, "with the necklace, the hair, and the attitude . . . you’re quite the package, Pepper."

A thrill shot through my core and I raised my brows. A glint from the overhead lights reflecting off something hit my eye. I looked down at his spiky belt. It was unclasped and hanging loosely around his waist; he probably put it on in a hurry after getting out of the shower. My hands clenched against the urge to run my fingers over the shiny silver studs. If I was going to be "Pepper," then "Stud" fit him well.

"So what I’m suggesting," Stud continued, "is an eye for an eye. Since I ogled you, I’ll let you ogle me."

I narrowed my brows. "That’s not an eye for an eye—I’m not having you line up next to other guys with bigger muscles and longer cocks."

His mouth curved in displeasure. "Look around. There’s no one else here, so we can’t do that. You’re just gonna have to settle for something else."

"Well I’m not settling for what you’re offering. If you’re gonna offer something, it had better be higher stakes."

"Higher stakes? Let me think about it . . ." He looked toward the ceiling, once again lost in thought.

I took the opportunity to stare at the sculpted pecs in front of me. They were at eye level, and I couldn’t avoid looking at them—even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t. Although I was ogling him, it was hardly the same situation as the one he’d put me in. So I felt no shame.

He had sexy ni**les, and the silver rings that hung from them only added to the effect. My gaze slowly trailed down his bare torso to the chiseled contours of his abs.

Gawd. Dayum.

They were so well-defined that I could’ve sworn they were airbrushed. I imagined that if the rock star thing didn’t work out, he could always make a living as a human cheese grater in a pizza kitchen.

I got to his navel—an innie—and from there began a trail of fine dark hairs that led down the center of his pelvis, disappearing into the top of his low-rise pants. Hard lines on the edges of his hips angled downward in the shape of a "V". It seemed like everything was pointing toward his crotch—which was impressive, from what I could tell. The tightness of his leather pants left little to the imagination. Even if he did line up next to other guys, I wasn’t sure there were any guys with bigger muscles and longer cocks.

An unwelcome desire grew in my core the longer I looked at his body. I gulped. Maybe I should forgive him. Stud’s ego was huge, but his c**k might almost be just as big . . .

As I thought about his cock, his hands drifted to his fly. He easily unclasped the top button, and yanked down the zipper.

I caught a glimpse of bare skin and my mouth dropped. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. "W—What are you doing?!"

He smiled. "Making us even. You wanted higher stakes. Here it is." He ripped back the leather flaps, exposing himself. I cupped my hand over my mouth, shocked. The treasure trail I’d followed earlier continued down his pelvis, fading into a patch of neatly-groomed pubic hair set above a massive c**k that hung halfway down his thigh.

OMG.

Cheeks burning, I picked my jaw up off the floor and collected myself. "This is the opposite of making us even. You humiliated and embarrassed me with those trashy groupies. But this isn’t embarrassing you. It’s more like you flashing me!"

Stud raised his scarred brow. "Embarrassed or not, I’m naked. You weren’t. We should be more than even. In fact, I think you owe me now."

I couldn’t help a laugh from escaping. "Owe you? Owe you what? A slap in the face?"

"We can start with a kiss."